


The Tale of the Invisible Soldier

by Port



Series: Purim Tales [1]
Category: 12 Dancing Princesses (Fairy Tale), Fairy Tales & Related Fandoms
Genre: Art Embedded, Collection: Purimgifts Day 1, F/F, Fairy Tale Retellings, WOMEN EVERYWHERE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-03
Updated: 2015-03-03
Packaged: 2018-03-16 04:38:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3474716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Port/pseuds/Port
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Perhaps</i>, Grace thought, <i>I should have taken the long way around the room instead of cutting across this beautiful waltz. I’m too used to charging head-on wherever I go. That worked on the battlefield, but look at where my impulsiveness has brought me only this week!</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Tale of the Invisible Soldier

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sumi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sumi/gifts).



> The sketch is also by the author.
> 
> Chag sameach, Sumi! Hope you enjoy.

Grace moved in an awkward counterstep to the dancers who spun and twirled in elegant combinations with each other on the gleaming pavilion floor. It was hard to get through without bumping into anyone, and she had already developed a paranoia about the trailing ends of her invisible cloak, afraid of tripping people. Besides the potential for injury, such an accident would surely give away her presence in this strange world. Yesterday afternoon, aboveground, in the King’s garden and tired from two nights observing the princesses belowground, Grace had dreamed of the cloak slipping from her shoulders: the fine ladies who rowed the princesses to this place with such courtesy had instantly transformed into hissing devils, who then--well, nothing then, for Grace had woken with a cry in her hammock, startling the King’s pet songbirds in their cages. A bath had followed, since the luxury was available to her during the three days she had to learn where the princesses went at night. But as she washed away the cold sweat that had risen on her skin during the nightmare, her thoughts did not linger on the terrible images, but on another matter, the very one that she now pursued, stealing across the dance floor and trying not to give herself away. 

She was certain the people in this place were not devils in disguise, but nonetheless she did not intend to learn how they would react to her intrusion. Grace had her sword on her belt (making the invisible cloak even more awkward), but she disliked her chances against so many.

 _Perhaps_ , she thought, _I should have taken the long way around the room instead of cutting across this beautiful waltz. I’m too used to charging head-on wherever I go. That worked on the battlefield, but look at where my impulsiveness has brought me only this week!_

“Oh!” came a cry behind her. Grace looked over her shoulder to see that she had stepped on the foot of Princess Frida, the King’s first daughter. Well, no matter. Princess Frida had been unfriendly the entire three days of their acquaintance, beginning when the King had introduced Grace in her veteran’s rags to his twelve daughters in their casual finery, all the way to bedtime this very night, when Frida had offered Grace a by-then-customary glass of warm milk drugged with poppy extract. If Grace had been of a mind to marry anyone in the first place, she still would not have considered choosing Princess Frida.

Leaving the woman behind to complain of a stubbed toe to her attentive dance partner, a willowy woman in black silk jacket and pants, black tie askew from whirling and twirling all night, Grace finally reached her goal: the handsome young gentlewoman in similar garb who stood at the side of Princess Alice. Grace spared a moment’s pity for Alice, but the girl was young and would find no lack of other suitors. And the woman on her arm clearly did not feel overwhelming passion for Alice. They were, after all, standing in an alcove to the side of the dance floor, observing their respective sisters, and the woman’s expression hinted at some impatience for dawn to necessitate rowing her companion back across the great lake for the day. It had been so the previous two nights as well. 

Grace scurried behind the mismatched couple. Keeping on her invisible cloak, she tapped the gentlewoman on the shoulder. The woman turned, curious, but of course saw only empty air. 

“What is it, dear Andrea?” Alice asked. 

Andrea. A beautiful name. Grace inhaled and held her breath to keep from repeating it.

“Nothing, I suppose,” replied Andrea. “I thought someone tapped my shoulder. It wasn’t you somehow?”

“No. This is very queer, though. Last night and tonight while traveling here, I heard sounds where there should be silence, and I felt breath on the back of my neck.”

At this, Andrea placed one hand on her sword hilt and looked about them so suspiciously that Grace felt sure the invisible cloak would fail under her scrutiny. “I’ll be on the alert, then,” said Andrea. Alice smiled, apparently relieved, and hooked her arm into the crook of Andrea’s elbow, which would effectively prevent her from drawing, should the need arise. Grace rolled her eyes and caught Andrea doing the same. Overcome by impulse again, she tapped Andrea on the shoulder a second time. 

Andrea spun, jostling Alice, but still the invisible cloak did its work. 

“You’re jumpier than I am,” Alice said, not nearly as amused as Grace. “I’m fairly sure there’s nothing here but our imaginations. My sisters all said I was being foolish, and here I’ve passed it along to you.”

Andrea frowned but said nothing. Her hand was clenched around the grip of her sword. Grace had to admit Alice’s company had had the same effect on her. The girl was well-meaning but lacked confidence in her own judgment. It made her wishy-washy and easily led by her eleven older sisters. Even if Grace had been of a mind to marry someone much younger, she would not have chosen Alice.

She let them settle back to watching the others dance before tapping Andrea a third time, thinking that that ought to do it. She was correct. Andrea jumped and drew her sword almost before Grace’s fingertips touched her shoulder. Grace had to hop backward three times to avoid getting cut or stabbed. 

“For God’s sake, Andrea,” Alice said. “No one else is here!”

She stomped away in her soft toe-shoes, but Andrea did not follow, choosing instead to stalk toward Grace, sword held in a steady defensive position. “Come out, trickster,” she whispered.

Trickster. Yes, Grace liked that. “Only,” she said, projecting to be heard from behind the cloak but not beyond their alcove, “if you promise me a kiss.”

Andrea raised an eyebrow. “Why should I do that?”

“If you kiss me, I’ll take off my invisible cloak and dance with you in the garden.”

Andrea sheathed her sword. “Why should I dance with you in the dark garden when I can dance with beautiful Alice in this glimmering pavilion?”

In answer, Grace took Andrea’s hand, her own still invisible, and drew her closer, thrilling within herself when Andrea allowed herself to be pulled nearer and nearer. Grace lifted her cloak, and Andrea peered inside at her face. “I am Grace,” she said. “You caught my eye two nights ago, and I haven’t been able to think of anything else. When the princesses go home at dawn today, I need to go with them and answer to their father--either tell the truth and receive half the kingdom and a resentful wife or refuse to spoil these women’s fun and have my head lopped off before an indifferent audience. I’m in this unenviable situation on a whim, yet all I’ve thought about is seeing you again. I was once a soldier, but it’s only now, on my final night, that I’ve gathered the courage to cross the floor to you, learn your beautiful name, and drive away my rival.”

When Grace had finished speaking, Andrea nodded thoughtfully. “We’ll dance in the garden in the dark, and if you are a good dancer, perhaps we shall kiss.”

Grace extended her flowing cloak over Andrea’s head and let it cover them both, so that no one would observe their walk to the garden.

By the time dawn arrived, Andrea’s absence had been noted, and all the courtiers and servants searched the pavilion and gardens and dock, but could not find her. One of the twelve boats that had brought the princesses was, however, found to be missing, which raised not only more questions but logistical considerations. In the end, Frida’s gentlewoman remained on shore, waving sadly as Frida, tired from a night of dancing, rowed herself and a bemused Alice across the great lake toward a shore sparkling with lustrous forests.

When the women arrived in their bedroom after a long, quiet climb up the secret stairway, they found their bedroom door still locked from the outside and the strange soldier’s bed cold and empty.

 _End_.


End file.
